


perfectionist

by ScreechTheMighty



Series: One is Quick, the Other's Tall [4]
Category: Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety, Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Rated for swearing, Self-Doubt, imposter syndrome, no beta reader we die like men, pre-game, wrote this instead of sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 17:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: What made him so special? What gave him the right to get special treatment, besides being in the right place at the right time? He was sure there were better shots in his unit, better fighters.But Lastimosa had picked him. And Cooper wasn’t planning on making him regret that decision.





	perfectionist

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by a) the fact that I have literally run the gauntlet until my wrist/thumb hurts, to no avail, because I just want to get my time below forty seconds, and b) the fact that I find the more hesitant and uncertain Cooper dialogue options really interesting. Also, relatable.

When he first joined Home Defense, he spent more time at the range than anyone else.

Same thing when he joined the Militia.

He hadn’t been a great shot when he’d first joined Home Defense. He’d been _okay_, but with the IMC still pushing hard to take their settlements from them, he needed to be better than okay. So he practiced and practiced until his eyes ached from the strain and his shoulder ached from the kickback.

He wasn’t the best shot in his company, but he was one of the better shots. And he got better when he joined the Militia. He had to stay alive. He had to keep _other people_ alive.

When Lastimosa first started training him, Cooper spent as much time in the simulator as he could. It was hard to get in as much practice as he wanted; he could only get access to the simulator with Lastimosa and the captain always made sure Cooper didn’t overexert himself.

Using the simulator for too long always gave him a migraine—sometimes a nosebleed. He tried his best to hide it, but Lastimosa always knew.

_“I think we’re done.”_

_Lastimosa didn’t sound disappointed, but Cooper couldn’t help hearing it that way. “One more time,” Cooper said. The plea flew past his lips before he could think about it. “I’ve almost got it…”_

_“Cooper, you’re not going to improve by pushing yourself too hard.” Lastimosa crouched next to Cooper. “You’ve hit your limit. There’s nothing wrong with that. It happens. You’re human. Yeah?”_

_“…yeah.” Cooper sighed. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”_

_“Don’t apologize. We’ll try it again tomorrow. Don’t worry, this one gave me some trouble, too. You’ll get there.”_

_Cooper had a hard time believing it—both that Lastimosa had ever struggled with _anything,_ and that he, himself, could figure it out. It just seemed too insurmountable._

_He’d keep trying, of course. But he didn’t feel good about it._

The washout rate for pilot training was over 90%. And that was _before_ the rejection rate for program entry, a statistic Cooper was intimately acquainted with. It was a lot of hard work, and _very_ regulated. Lastimosa could get in trouble for even having him in the same room as a simulator, much less letting him us one.

But he’d taken that chance, because he saw…_something_. Cooper wasn’t sure _what,_ but Lastimosa saw it, and he was putting his neck out for him. Cooper had to prove he was worthy of that. He _had_ to.

He _would, _no matter what it took. Even if that meant coming out of the simulator with a headache and phantom cramps running through his entire body.

_“Military service?”_

_Cooper looked up from his bag, raising an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”_

_Ed leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I just…figured you’d sit this out.”_

_The comment set Cooper’s jaw on edge. Sometimes it felt like he could feel the weight of the gun in his hands, still feel the ringing in his ears, smell the blood. For a second, he was tempted to throw that back in his cousin’s face—remind him who was the one in this family who’d drawn first blood. Who’d nearly seen his father executed for the crime of trying to protect his property, and had to take matters into his own hands to keep that from happening. How could he _not_ get into the fight? After everything the IMC had done to his family?_

_But he also knew what Ed thought of him. That he was an underachiever, that he was crazy for not wanting to get off Persephone, that all he’d do with his life was have a farm and maybe some kids and that was it. That he wouldn’t amount to anything._

_And the guy who had never done anything wouldn’t join Home Defense, right?_

_“Guess you were wrong about that,” Cooper said. And a lot of other things, but Ed would never believe that. Not unless he saw it for himself._

Whenever he wasn’t in the simulator, he practiced on his own. Moving targets on the practice range, more intense workouts, reading up on Titan piloting. He did his best to be discreet, and whenever anyone in his unit asked him what he was doing, he said he was going to try for piloting again. It wasn’t a _complete_ lie.

Cooper had a feeling some of them had guessed something was up. No one asked, perhaps sensing that whatever it was, they didn’t _want_ to know. Plausible deniability and all. Cooper was grateful for it, even if he did feel a little guilty. It felt like he was leaving them behind, especially since he wasn’t the only one who wanted to be a pilot.

What made him so special? What gave him the right to get special treatment, besides being in the right place at the right time? He was sure there were better shots in his unit, better fighters.

But Lastimosa had picked him. And Cooper wasn’t planning on making him regret that decision.

_“See, that was better!”_

_Cooper jumped back to his feet. He stumbled as he did, but managed to keep his footing and get his hands up. If he and Lastimosa were keeping score, Cooper would’ve been losing; he’d already been tagged several times and knocked down twice. But he was going to keep going until he was told to stop._

_Or until the exhaustion of what had been a long PT session took over. Which seemed like the more likely option, because Lastimosa had him pinned within a few seconds of Cooper getting back up._

_“You know what the best trait of a pilot is, Rifleman?”_

_“No, sir,” Cooper gasped as he tried to escape the grapple._

_“Guess.”_

_Cooper would’ve, but he was _determined_ to get out of that grapple. It took him a second, and some contortions that would probably make him ache more than the actual hits he’d taken, but suddenly Copper was free and crouched in a defense stance in front of Lastimosa._

_Lastimosa looked at him intensely, then laughed. “All right. We’re done.” He stood up and offered Cooper a hand. “You figured it out.”_

_Cooper frowned and took Lastimosa’s hand. “I…didn’t answer the question, sir?”_

_“Sure you did. Just now.” Lastimosa helped him up. “You didn’t give up. Doesn’t matter if you get knocked down. The real failure is when you stop trying.” He patted Cooper on the shoulder. “You’re doing great. You’re well on your way, Coop.”_

Cooper had always known he was his own worst enemy.

He had never _been_ to anyone about his persistent and sometimes near crippling self-doubt, but it had been pointed out to him enough times that he noticed it. Mostly by his family members, sometimes by his few friends. The worst part about not being able to tell anyone what he was doing with Lastimosa was not having someone he could sound off of, who’d tell him that he was being stupid and he just needed to keep his head in the game.

Then, by sheer chance, in the same part of the Frontier as Alicia Wu, his former next door neighbor and the only person in the Militia that he knew personally from home. She worked in supplies; it wasn’t often that she got away from her desk and out onto the field. They usually were only able to message each other, so seeing her face to face was a nice change of pace.

“Have you been working out? You look like you’ve been working out.”

Cooper laughed. “What, was I not _fit_ before?”

“You were _fit_ before. You just look…y’know, toned and shit. Like a recruitment poster. Are they trying to get you to do a recruitment poster?”

“_No._” Cooper shook his head, trying to ignore the blush spreading down from his ears.”I’ve…been doing a different training regimen.”

That caught her attention. “Did they change their minds about you…?”

“No.” Technically not a lie, though he still felt bad about saying it. “I’m…thinking about giving it another shot. Just trying to impress the right person.” Also not technically a lie. “I just hope I’m not wasting my time.”

Alicia snorted. “Knowing you? You’re probably trying _too_ hard.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “Listen, whatever you’re doing, I’m sure it’s perfect. You’re always doing better than you think you are. Besides, they were stupid to turn you down the first time.”

It was weird, but he always had an easier time hearing it when _she_ was saying it.

“Well, thanks for the support.” Cooper glanced down at his at lunch. Despite himself, his blush was deepening a bit. “I might need to get that in writing.”

“Tape it to your mirror and say some self-affirmations every morning?”

“I mean, if it works...”

At that point, he was willing to try anything. Because he hated not being able to believe that he was good enough. He hated doubting himself.

Alicia was a good person, a good friend, someone he’d known for a solid chunk of his life. Someone he cared about more than he liked to admit, sometimes. Her belief in him was a good lifesaver, something to hold onto.

But it was just one lifesaver in a whole _ocean_ of mental fuckery.

Like he said. He didn’t have much in the way of friends.

_“I didn’t see you at the bar last night. Something come up? You feeling okay?”_

_It took Cooper a second to catch up to what the other Rifleman—Derek Turner, someone he was acquainted with but not quite on the level of _friends_—was saying. That gave Turner space to keep talking. “Because if you are sick, don’t get too close to me. I don’t want to spread that shit around…”_

_“Oh, no, uhm…” Cooper cleared his throat. “I didn’t…I didn’t know people were going to the bar. Was, uhm..” He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “Was everyone going?”_

_Turner, at least, had the decency to look alarmed, then ashamed at the realization. “Yeah…no one invited you? We were all gonna go…_fuck_, man, I’m sorry, I assumed Walker asked you like he asked everyone else…”_

_Cooper already had a feeling that Walker didn’t like him. He’d been trying to convince himself that it was just his anxiety talking._

_Now he had evidence—either that Walker didn’t like him, or that Walker had flat out forgotten Cooper existed. Neither option made him feel good about himself._

_“It’s fine,” Cooper said, despite the growing ache in his chest. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”_

_Tio Walt had told him that a big part of the law was precedence. As far as Cooper was concerned, social interactions went the same way._

_He would be invited to some events in the future. Turner was the only one who ever invited him. That didn’t make Cooper feel good about himself, either._

Sometimes, he couldn’t sleep.

Cooper started going to the hanger on those nights. He’d sit in a corner and look at the Titans. He wondered which class he might get if he became a pilot. Probably not a Vanguard: they were too rare to give to just anyone. Maybe Tone, or Ion. Or Northstar. Northstar didn’t sound half bad.

He’d thought about asking Lastimosa, but he didn’t want to risk jinxing things. No sense in planning for something that might not happen.

One night, he found himself in front of Lastimosa’s Titan, BT. Cooper was surprised to find Lastimosa asleep on a cot nearby, half-falling off the thing, his blanket falling onto the floor. He must’ve had a room; what was he doing out here?

Maybe he felt better sleeping near his Titan. It was probably the pilot equivalent of sleeping with a knife under your pillow. Cooper moved forward carefully, nudging Lastimosa back onto the cot and pulling the blanket back up over him. Lastimosa was _out_, thank God, and didn’t stir once as Cooper got him safely back onto bed.

Someone else did, though. When Cooper stepped back, he heard a slight grinding of metal. He looked up in time to see the Titan staring down at him.

Suddenly, Cooper felt like he was intruding. Like he shouldn’t be there.

“Uhm.” Cooper cleared his throat. “I’m…I’m gonna go.”

He speed-walked back to his sleeping quarters. BT watched him go and didn’t say a word.

_“Cooper, come here a second!”_

_Cooper froze, glanced at Turner and the others, then got up and walked in the direction of Lastimosa’s voice. The pilot was sitting with a few other pilots. Lastimosa grinned at him brightly. “Here he is. This is the one I told you guys about. Jack Cooper. Cooper, this is Shaver and Freeborn.”_

_“Sir,” Cooper said politely. Shaver stood up to shake his hand; Freeborn just waved. “Nice to meet you.”_

_“Nice to meet you, too,” Freeborn said. “Lastimosa was telling us about how you saved his ass. Good job. We like having him around.”_

_Cooper’s first instinct was to insist that Lastimosa had done most of the work. But the pilot in question was raising an eyebrow at Cooper. He knew what that look meant: just take the compliment._

_“Just doing my part, sir. It was an honor working with him.” It was as close as Cooper could get without deflecting away from himself._

_It didn’t make him feel like he deserved the praise. If anything, he felt even more like an imposter._

They practiced mobility the next day. Those days were Cooper’s favorites; the sheer rush that came with wall running and jet-assisted jumps made him feel almost invincible—almost like he could actually _do_ this. His speed wasn’t getting much better, but he didn’t fall down once. That was definitely an improvement. He and Lastimosa made their way to the highest point of the map. Cooper thought, perhaps, there would be more to the lesson; instead, Lastimosa sat down, seemingly just enjoying the view.

“You going to stand there all day?” he said after a minute.

Cooper sat down next to him. It felt weird—almost too casual—but Lastimosa seemed okay with it. “BY said he saw you in the hanger last night,” Lastimosa said.

“Oh. Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. You were, uh…kinda falling off the bed a bit, I tried to put you back…”

“That’s what I figured. Thanks for that. You saved me a backache today. Hope BT didn’t scare you too much. It’s nothing you did. He probably didn’t want to wake me, and he’s still not great with small talk. We’re working on it. You know you deserve to be here, right?”

Thank God they were wearing helmets. Cooper had always hated that he was a nervous blusher. He had his mom’s side of the family to blame for that. “Sir?”

“Your progress is at the same rate as other trainees I’ve worked with. You’re doing pretty much everything right. Just…” Lastimosa nudged him gently. “Try to believe in yourself a little more, yeah? I know it’s not that easy, but…for what it’s worth, _I _believe in you.”

Cooper felt a surge of conflicting emotions—embarrassment, denial, a slight surge of anxiety. But, overwhelming all of those, was gratitude. He knew there were people who believed in him—Alicia _had_ actually come through with that written reminder that he was doing his best, don’t worry so much, Jack—but to have _this_ person believe in him? To the point that he was risking a lot to see him succeed?

It meant a lot. No one had really taken a chance on him before. Not like this.

“I’ll try to be worthy of that,” Cooper said.

Lastimosa shook his head. “Like I said. You already are.”

For a moment, as they sat there and watched the perpetual artificial sunset, Cooper actually believed it.

He was sure it wouldn’t last. But even that brief, anxiety-free moment was enough to lift his spirits.

He was going to be a pilot. Whatever it took, however long it took, he was going to do this. He had to, even if his mind tried to tell him that he couldn’t.

_The real failure is when you stop trying. _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at screechthemighty for general blogging and respawncinematicuniverse for up-to-the-minute fanfic updates. Also, I've been on a roll with Titanfall fic over the last few days. I have zero explanation for this, except that I started a whole bunch of ideas and I guess I just really want to start finishing some of them.


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